Carry On, Wayward Son
by Save Fearow
Summary: Parenting is never easy, but it's always worth the effort. Father's Day drabble collection, featuring Ickis and Slickis.


Carry On, Wayward Son

An Aaaah! Real Monsters Fanfic

by Save Fearow

Author's Note: I've always wanted to do a collection of Father's Day inspired moments, highlighting Slickis' struggles and successes as a single parent. This one is for all the fellas out there who know how much work it takes to be a Dad, and do it anyway. You guys rock! (And that includes those who take the time to be a mentor or a foster parent to non-biological children. They deserve a round of appreciation, too.)

It wasn't s'posed to be like this. Hatching a bonsty should be the most wonderful moment in any monster's life, the culmination of years of marital bliss. They'd spent weeks planning for the new arrival. Slickis had gotten a crib for the bonsty with very thick bars because he knew that even before the adult fangs grew in, little loomers liked to chew on various objects. Squelia had worried that their son might hurt himself anyway, but Slickis assured her the boy would be in no danger so long as he was around. Looking back, Slickis had promised her ALOT of things that were -never- going to happen now, and it filled him with shame. He couldn't save her, he hadn't protected anyone in his family from the earthquake, he couldn't even find the bonsty egg without help! No wonder Ickis was still crying.

"Shh-hh. It's alright, Ickis. Daddy loves you." Slickis insisted.

"Waaah!" Ickis continued to sob.

"Really, it's gonna be fine. We have each other, see?" Slickis pointed out.

Ickis squirmed as if he were trying to examine the area around them, which was full of rubble and debris and over there it looked as though there still might be traces of...

"Don't look, son." Slickis admonished. He hastened to block Ickis' view.

"You can't shield him from that forever." a voice proclaimed.

Slickis had never deliberately ignored another monster before, particularly one as authoritative as the Gromble, but just this once he chose not to acknowledge the Headmaster's presence. Instead he focused on bouncing the bonsty up-and-down, the motion seemed to soothe Ickis.

"The funeral will be in 3 days. The city will cover the expenses, of course. They have a special fund set aside just for that. Maybe you weren't aware of it? They initiated that policy after the 1831 epidemic, to provide solace for the remaining family members. Mostly it serves to absolve the city of guilt." the Gromble added.

Slickis' eyes widened. That had only been a year before he attended the Academy. He'd heard the rumor about the Gromble considering early retirement, but all the students had brushed that off as wishful thinking. He'd never believed there had been any truth to those comments, until now. "I thought I was the only one... when I came back for Squelia, she was already gone, everyone was. His egg wasn't anywhere in sight, she -never- would have let him go, so it must've been one of the after-shocks that knocked him loose. If I hadn't heard Ickis cry, I don't know what woulda become of him." Slickis confessed.

"There are always survivors." the Gromble replied. "I'm sure Ickis would have found a way, he has that STUBBORN look about him."

"You think so?" Slickis questioned.

For a moment, Ickis and the Gromble locked eyes, then Ickis began to wail, louder than ever. "Oh yes. I'm -sure- of it." the Gromble determined.

Slickis knew it wasn't going to be easy, but he never thought it would be -this- hard.

"Ickis, please. It's jus' garbage, give it a try!" Slickis urged.

Ickis scowled and shook his head.

"Yummy, tasty garbage is perfect for bonstys." Slickis continued.

Ickis stubbornly refused to yield.

"I know you like the bottle, but you can't drink pond scum every day. You're too big for that." Slickis insisted as he placed the bottle well out of reach.

Ickis responded by crouching down on all fours and trying to make himself look as small as possible.

"You're not fooling anybody, Ickis. You've -got- bonsty fangs, time to put 'em to good use." Slickis maintained.

Ickis clapped a paw over his mouth, but otherwise held his position.

Slickis scooped some garbage into his paws. "Take a look at this, Ickis! Here's a rotten cantaloupe, jus' oozing with maggots! C'mon, Ickis! Have a bite!" Slickis coaxed.

Ickis squinted at the rotting melon but seemed otherwise uninterested.

"Daddy likes it, see?" Slickis demonstrated by chowing down on the decaying insect-filled produce.

Ickis sniffed at the garbage questionably. Again, he shook his head.

"Okay, maybe insects aren't your thing. They're a little squishy, and you probly wouldn't care for the fruity aftertaste. I think it takes an adult palate to fully 'preciate that." Slickis opined. "How about some cardboard then?" Slickis suggested.

Ickis began to whimper.

"Crumpled newspaper? Wood shavings? Chicken bones? Dirt?" Slickis rattled off several prospects. By now, Ickis was in tears. Slickis picked up his bonsty and spoke reassuringly. "Shh-hh. It's alright, son. You don't hafta do anything you're not ready for." Slickis professed. He patted the bonsty on the head and Ickis stopped crying. "That's m'boy." Slickis asserted. He felt proud until he remembered that Ickis STILL hadn't eaten any solid food, and the monsters from Bonsty Protective Service had been -very- specific that the 'ideal age for bonsty development' meant 'exact age, no exceptions allowed.' Ickis WAS a good boy, even if he was an absurdly picky eater. Ickis must have gotten that trait from his mother's side of the family, loomers were notorious for being indiscriminate garbage-guzzlers. When Slickis was that age, he would have eaten anything that wasn't nailed down, and he probly would have made several dents in the nails as well.

Slickis glanced back at the delectable rubbish pile his son had spurned and sighed. "Oh, Ickis... isn't there ANYTHING you like?" Slickis asked.

Ickis frowned in concentration. Then he looked up at Slickis and smiled. "Dah." Ickis announced with finality.

Slickis beamed. When you got right down to it, parenting wasn't so tough. Slickis hugged Ickis tightly, whispered that he was a wonderful bonsty boy, and then gave Ickis the bottle he'd been clamoring for. They'd try again tomorrow for sure, when Ickis would be feeling more cooperative, and Slickis could be the firm, resolute disciplinarian.

Slickis never looked forward to the weekly meetings with Bonsty Protective Services. He wasn't entirely sure who had told the government agency that Slickis and his son currently lived on the streets due to the massive amount of property damage the earthquake had caused (although if Slickis had to guess, his former classmate Mimbo would be high on the list of suspects.) Pritchal, the director of Bonsty Protective Services made it -very- clear that he didn't trust Slickis at all, and that he fully expected Slickis' plan to earn toenails by selling a biography to fail miserably. However, Slickis had always managed to get Pritchal to agree by the end of each session that Ickis seemed happy enough that he could remain under his father's care. This week looked to be a considerably harder sell.

Pritchal gestured accusingly at Ickis. "He looks terrible. What's wrong with his fur?" Pritchal demanded.

"Er, he's a little under the weather today." Slickis admitted. He cradled the bonsty lovingly.

"That's to be expected when you leave him exposed to the elements constantly!" barked Pritchal.

"I've got a suitcase that keeps him fairly well protected. And jus' the other day, I got him a blanket too." Slickis pointed out.

"What do you want, a medal?" Pritchal jeered.

"I jus' want to be allowed to keep my son. He's a good bonsty and I'm looking after him as best I can. He's doing a lot better today." Slickis argued. Ickis sneezed in response.

Pritchal stared at them quizzically. "You mean he was worse?" Pritchal questioned.

Slickis' eyes widened. "No, no! I didn't say that!" Slickis protested.

"Of course. Deadbeat parents never admit to their own short-comings." Pritchal opined.

"I'm not trying to avoid blame, I'm only trying to keep things in perspective. I've got Ickis bundled up warmly now, and I've given him some medicine to help with his bronchitis." Slickis explained.

"How did you pay for that, holding up cardboard signs?" Pritchal insinuated.

"Ickis doesn't care for the taste of cardboard. I thought I might as well put it to good use." justified Slickis.

"I s'pose it's -marginally- better than holding up a bank." Pritchal conceded.

"Actually I did some work for a friend, hauling boxes of mold on his farm." Slickis detailed.

"And I gather he paid you off with some penicillin mold? Hmm, I s'pose that -does- show a bit of ingenuity." allowed Pritchal.

"I've heard ingenuity is a sign of good parenting." Slickis claimed.

"Really? I've heard that bluffing isn't one of your skills." Pritchal replied.

"Ahchoo!" Ickis sneezed again.

"Bless you. Hey Pritchal, do you have a napkin I could borrow? I need to wipe his nose." Slickis realized.

Pritchal sighed and thrust a napkin into Slickis' paw. "Keep it. I doubt I'd want it back after he's done." Pritchal remarked.

"That's very generous of you." Slickis professed. He turned his attention back to Ickis. "Hold still, son... good boy. That feels better, doesn't it?" Slickis proclaimed.

"Dah." Ickis murmured.

"I taught him that! It's his first word!" bragged Slickis.

"It's his first sound effect." Pritchal corrected.

"I think he could learn a lot more if he stayed with me." Slickis predicted.

"Dah!" Ickis chimed in. He pointed to Slickis happily.

Pritchal sighed. "I might as well give you another week with him, at any rate. I really wouldn't want him making the monsters at the orphanage sick." Pritchal judged.

"I don't think he would do that deliberately. He's probly not even contagious at this point." Slickis ventured.

"I hope not." Pritchal muttered. He leaned in to examine Ickis more closely, only to have the bonsty cough in his face.

"Merde." Slickis whispered.

The director glared at them. "What was that?" he snapped.

"Merci?" Slickis bluffed. "It means 'thank you'. Ickis and I are very grateful that you took time out of your busy schedule to meet with us!"

"It's mandatory." Pritchal hissed.

"We're grateful all the same!" Slickis insisted. Pritchal coughed and pointed towards the door, looking more annoyed than ever. "Buuut, maybe we should go." Slickis decided as they made a hasty retreat.

This was the life! Slickis had been sure that interview would lead to great things. How could it be anything less, when the reporter had promised he would market it that way? Only a week since its official release, and the new biography 'Tales Of The Great Slickis' was already a best-seller. He'd used the first royalty check to finance the necessary structural repairs on the old house, and buy some second-hand furniture so it could finally be deemed inhabitable again by monster standards. Of course, that meant there was still some interior work to be done, but Slickis was confident he could handle that, no problem!

"Here we are, Ickis. Home, wretched home!" Slickis announced grandly. He carried the squirming bonsty inside and began describing their happy abode. "You'll love it here, it's much warmer than being outside and safer, too. You can crawl around and explore to your heart's content." Slickis offered.

But maybe he should have put some qualifiers on that, because Ickis immediately scurried under the biggest piece of furniture available.

"Ickis, come back here." Slickis admonished. There was a muffled thump, followed by a yowl of pain from the bonsty. Slickis loomed and lifted up the couch. "Oh, Ickis. You got your paw stuck in one of the springs, hold still while I pull you free." Slickis instructed. With a bit of tugging, he managed to shake Ickis loose.

"Bad cow." Ickis scolded.

"It's a couch, son." Slickis corrected. "Say it with me, couch."

"Cow." Ickis repeated.

"Well, that's halfway there. You're a clever boy to learn so many new things." Slickis claimed.

"Dah!" Ickis declared happily, before sinking his fangs into one of Slickis' ears.

"Yowch! Don't bite Daddy's ears, that -hurts-." Slickis chided.

Ickis let go immediately. "Sowwy, Dah." Ickis apologized.

"That's alright, no harm done. They were kinda battered already." Slickis conceded. He sighed. "Couch is pretty torn up, too. I'll have to patch that up, so it's bonsty-proof. Then we'll get a lamp and a bookshelf so I can read to you every night." Slickis decided.

"Bay-wulf." Ickis demanded.

"Not right now, but I'll read the story tonight. Maybe we'll go to the library tomorrow, get you some new books. Or I could jus' read you the biography..." Slickis suggested hopefully.

"Wanna good book." Ickis insisted.

Slickis sighed. "Maybe you'll like it when you're older. I think it's a fascinating read." Slickis maintained.

"Bay-wulf good." Ickis maintained.

"It's good for bedtime. Are you sleepy, Ickis? Would you like a nap?" Slickis wheedled.

"NO." Ickis replied.

"I really wish you hadn't learned that word." Slickis remarked.

"Merde!" Ickis added.

Slickis' eyes widened. "That's even worse! Ne jurez pas." Slickis lectured.

"Vous l'avez dit!" Ickis countered.

"I didn't think you heard that! But thank you for reminding me not to lose my temper when talking to or about Bonsty Protective Services. I'm sure they do alot of good... sometimes. Probly when we're not around..." Slickis determined.

"Good Dah. Stay wif Dah." Ickis vowed.

"Absolutely! I'll stay with you, and you can stay in the crib. Everybody wins!" Slickis declared. Ickis howled in protest. "Nice howling, son. You'll be a champ-een scarer someday." Slickis envisioned.

Ickis' lip trembled. "Don't go!" he pleaded.

"Ickis, I'm not even going to be far away! I'll jus' be gunking up the kitchen floors. You can sleep here, and when you wake up, I should be finished and then we can play together. I know this is a little different from what you're used to, but you'll like the crib if you give it a chance." Slickis explained.

"Wanna soo-case." Ickis argued.

"No, you do not want to sleep in a suitcase. That was only a temporary solution, you'll be far more comfortable napping in the crib like the good little bonsty I know you are." Slickis proclaimed.

Ickis grabbed onto the bars and attempted to stand up straight. "Not little." Ickis huffed. He wobbled slightly, so Slickis steadied him.

"That's m'boy!" Slickis professed. "Stay here and be good."

Ickis frowned as his father walked away. How could he stay here, if Dad wasn't here, and he had to stay with Dad? Sometimes grown-ups were VERY confusing. It was a good thing they had bonstys to set them straight!

Slickis strode confidently into the kitchen. Later, he would fix Ickis some good home-cooked gruel, his son would almost definitely like that. For now, Slickis concentrated on filling a bucket with grime. He could dirty that floor in no time, provided he ignore Ickis' plaintive cries. Slickis lasted almost a full half hour before he caved.

He ran back into the room, still carrying the bucket. "Ickis, please don't cry. Daddy's here." Slickis attempted to sound soothing.

"Waaah! My Dah GONE." Ickis sobbed.

"I came back for you, Ickis. I told you I would, you can trust me." Slickis promised. He set down the bucket so he could give Ickis a reassuring hug.

Ickis didn't seem entirely convinced. "Dah stay here?" Ickis whimpered.

Slickis sighed. "I -can't- right now, I have work to do. See the bucket and the sponge? I need that to dirty up the house." Slickis informed him.

Ickis squinted and gestured toward the supplies. "Whassa spung?" wondered Ickis.

"It's very useful, you dip the sponge in dirty water, and it makes it easier to spread the grime around. Wanna give it a try?" Slickis offfered.

"MINE!" Ickis squealed as he reached for the sponge. He squeezed it tightly and laughed with delight.

"You don't hug the sponge, it's not really a toy." Slickis started to correct his son, but then he realized that Ickis was no longer in tears, clamoring for his attention. "Maybe it -is- a bonsty toy. I guess it wouldn't hurt to let you play with it, jus' for a day or so." Slickis decided. He patted Ickis on the head before shifting his focus back to the chores.

2 hours later, the kitchen floor was so filthy you could eat off it. But when Slickis tried to pick up his son so he could show Ickis how much grimier everything was, Ickis didn't want to leave the crib- or his new favorite toy- behind. It took considerably longer to pry the sponge out off Ickis' paws, and by then, Slickis was starting to wonder WHAT exactly he'd gotten himself into.

Ickis had always enjoyed going to the docks with his father. Despite New York City's so-called ban on improper waste disposal, humans continued to toss garbage into the river. Slickis was adept at spearing the floating pieces of refuse, and on most days, this activity kept Ickis enthralled. Today, however, Ickis had sat there, glumly watching his father retrieve a soggy overcoat.

"You want the buttons off this, Ickis? They're the best part!" Slickis offered.

Ickis shook his head. "No." he mumbled.

"How bout a sleeve then? It's good quality fabric, very chewy, help strengthen your fangs." Slickis claimed.

"Why bother? They're jus' gonna fall out, an' then I won't have them anymore." Ickis whispered.

"True, bonsty fangs aren't permanent. But you'll get adult fangs in their place." Slickis reminded him.

"Is that what grown-ups do when lose somethin', get a 'placement for it?" Ickis questioned.

"I think so." Slickis answered.

"Then why haven't you 'placed Mom?" Ickis asked.

Slickis hesitated. Even after all these years, he still didn't have an adequate response to that. "Ickis, it's... not that simple. Your mother isn't lost, she's dead." Slickis finally stated.

"Then she should stop being dead. That'd make ev'rybody happy." Ickis asserted.

Slickis' ears drooped. "She can't do that, Ickis. Death is permanent. It's like, well, you've seen the fish in the river, haven't you?" Slickis began.

"Yes." Ickis replied.

"And you've seen fish heads along the shore and in the trash." continued Slickis. "That's what happens to fish when they die."

Ickis' eyes widened. "Mom is a fish head?" Ickis shrieked. Horrified, Ickis turned to run away, but Slickis grabbed his son's wrist and pulled him close.

"No, no! Ickis, stop that. It isn't safe to run along here, stay with me." Slickis cautioned.

"YOU'RE not safe!" Ickis screamed. "You -eat- fish heads, that makes you a... a cannonball! Waaah!"

Slickis sighed. "Ickis, you misunderstood. Fish die and decompose, the same way alot of creatures do. It's different for monsters, we don't leave behind skeletal remains. Monsters vanish slowly over time, no more than a day or two and they disappear completely. Otherwise humans would dig up dead monsters and we would all be in danger." Slickis explained.

Ickis was perplexed. "Then why is there monster funerals?" Ickis pressed.

"It's a ritual, to help guide the spirits. When we die, our spirits join with other departed monsters and form a collective entity that watches over all of monsterdom. But a single spirit is not all-knowing, and there is concern that a spirit might get lost if it doesn't have someone helping it navigate the spirit realm. That's what the funeral altar and the incense sticks were for, guidance. First, a speech is given describing the life of the fallen monster. If possible, a personal item may be sacrificed at the altar... but, it's not -strictly- necessary. The important thing is that reverence is paid, and an accurate description is provided, so that our ancestors recognize the new spirit who will be joining them. The ceremony is performed by a trained monster priest or priestess, and attendance is limited to family and friends of the deceased. The priest is given a fee for their services, usually it's the eldest surviving male that pays for that, but exceptions have been made. It's not exactly like the traditions humans follow, but it seems to have provided for our well-being so far. You were only a newly-hatched bonsty when we went to the funeral, so it's alright if you don't remember any of it." Slickis detailed.

"I 'member it!" Ickis insisted. "The smoke made my eyes water, but I didn't cry out cause that fat monster said ev'rybody be quiet, it's a slalom occasion."

"Close enough. But don't call the Gromble fat, son. He REALLY wouldn't like that." Slickis professed.

Ickis nodded. "The Gromble's scary. I don't never wanna see him again." Ickis declared.

Slickis tried valiantly to suppress a grin. "The Gromble means well. He might be a little dramatic, but he's a very good Scaring instructor." Slickis opined.

"He's a big, fat meanie." Ickis maintained.

"Maybe you'll change your mind when you're older, and you've been to his Academy." Slickis suggested.

"Why would I go to school? I can jus' learn from you!" Ickis reasoned.

"Heh. Nice try, but you're still gonna need more of an education than I can give provide. You wait, some things you can only learn from the Academy." Slickis claimed.

"What kind of things?" Ickis wheedled.

"Come with me, Ickis. I'm gonna show you a little something special." Slickis promised.

"Are you gonna loom, Dad? You already did that this morning, scared all'a the dock workers." Ickis recalled.

"This is better than looming." Slickis insisted as he led the way back home.

Ickis frowned. As far as he knew, looming was Slickis' best trick, better than the Deep Wailing Screech, and way better than any of his Dad's stealth tactics (especially fur camoflauge. It was absolutely unfair that the camoflauge gene was unstable, and not every monster could deliberately invoke those color changes.) Besides, Slickis could do those things anywhere, so why where they heading home early? It didn't make any sense, unless the something special was inside the house...

"Is it the sponge?" Ickis hoped.

Slickis groaned inwardly. Hadn't he done enough to rid Ickis of that little obsession? "No, it's upstairs." Slickis clarified.

"You -could- hide the sponge upstairs." Ickis suggested pointedly.

"I -could- put you to bed immediately, but I'm not going to do that either." Slickis remarked.

"So not fair! I'd go to sleep IF the sponge was there." Ickis pouted.

For a second, Slickis was tempted to take his son up on that offer, but he decided against it. Slickis paused in front of the master bedroom and turned to address his son. "Ickis, I want to show you something -very- important, and I have to make certain you're mature enough to handle it. Playing with a bonsty toy ISN'T going to demonstrate that." Slickis patiently explained.

Ickis' ears drooped. "Yes, Dad." Ickis reluctantly agreed.

"That's m'boy." Slickis acknowledged. He ruffled Ickis' fur playfully. While Ickis frantically tried to smoothe the fur back down, Slickis opened the door, took a quick inventory inside the room, and emerged with a small, metal object clasped firmly in his paws. He crouched down so Ickis could have a closer look. "This belonged to your mother, Ickis. It's the brass fastener I gave her back at the Academy, to announce our engagement. She wore it every day, for the rest of her life, and I've kept it safe every day after that." Slickis revealed.

"Wow." Ickis marveled.

"It's a little tarnished, so it smells predominantly of rust. But I think the fastener still has some of your mother's scent on it." Slickis judged.

Ickis sniffed at it curiously. "It's like grease an' mud an' something I don't really know... faith maybe." Ickis decided.

Slickis nodded. "That's it exactly, son." Slickis confirmed.

Ickis stared at the brass fastener, transfixed. His paws trembled as though he longed to touch it, but didn't dare. "An' this is all you have left from Mom?" Ickis questioned.

"Not all I have." Slickis answered. He gave his son a fierce hug, and then let Ickis' claws brush against the fastener briefly, before returning Squelia's engagement present to its place of honor.

Even though Slickis had a reputation as being fearless, there were times he really worried about his son. This evening definitely counted as the scariest moment he'd had in recent memory. Slickis still wasn't sure how that obnoxious lady monster had managed to persuade them to go to a restaurant and talk business. Slickis really hadn't been interested in co-starring in the Rotundio and Jawlier play, he was busy enough as it was, juggling Sewerball, a scaring career, and a young bonsty who claimed to be fiercely independent... and then panicked if his father left him alone for more than an hour. It was hard to believe that he'd almost lost Ickis for good. No matter how many times the hospital staff praised him for acting quickly, Slickis would forever blame himself for letting Ickis eat those stupid slugs in the first place.

Ickis whimpered softly in Slickis' paws. "We're going home, right Dad?" Ickis rasped.

"That's right, son. I jus' had to pay the bills, get your prescription, and sign the discharge form. Now we're good to go." Slickis assured him.

"Did it cost alot?" Ickis questioned.

Slickis gently patted his son on the head. "It was worth every toenail." Slickis insisted as they left the building. "Now close your eyes, son. It's very late, and you must be exhausted." Slickis reasoned.

"You promised me a story first." Ickis reminded him.

"Of course. Monsters never break their word!" Slickis concurred. He lifted Ickis up slighty higher and continued walking. "Now I said it would be a true story, so that means it'll be a little different from the stories you're used to." explained Slickis.

"But there still has to be a hero. Every story's got one." Ickis opined.

"Fine. But this hero might not be -quite- as spectacular." Slickis cautioned.

"Does he fight bad guys?" Ickis asked.

"Not unless you count the rival Sewerball team as bad guys." Slickis admitted.

"It counts! The Boston Dreadfuls are a bunch'a bums!" Ickis vehemently declared.

"No arguments here. So our hero has earned some recognition over the years for defeating all challengers." Slickis acknowledged.

"Ugh. That means he's FAMOUS." Ickis complained.

"That's not so bad. It puts garbage on the table and toenails in the bank." Slickis maintained.

"Is he rich?" Ickis hoped.

"No. The hero has a family to support." Slickis answered.

Ickis' ears drooped. "I knew it cost too much." he mumbled.

"And he would -rather- spend time with his son, even if meant working fewer hours." Slickis continued.

Ickis perked up immediately. "No way!" exclaimed Ickis.

"Yes way! You don't get to be the hero unless you have your priorities straight." Slickis insisted.

"I wanna be the hero someday." Ickis whispered.

"I'm sure you will be." Slickis graciously allowed. He paused. "Hold on tight to me, Ickis. This part of the sewer is very slippery and the water's deep. I don't want you falling in and getting soaked." Slickis warned.

"I know how to swim!" Ickis argued.

"Yes, but you were jus' in the hospital getting treated for an allergic reaction and your throat still sounds sore. I think it's a good idea for you to take it easy tonight, you don't need another shock to your system right now." Slickis judged.

"I can handle it." Ickis claimed. He clapped a paw over his mouth and coughed.

"Why don't we get you home first?" Slickis suggested. "Then we'll see if you're up for an adventure tomorrow."

"It's more fun if the hero brings somebody younger along on his 'ventures, like a hero-in-training." Ickis persisted.

"Hmm. I s'pose that -would- make the journey alot more interesting." Slickis commented. He clambered over the ledge and onto a drier section of the sewer. Then he set Ickis down briefly and shook himself off.

"Can I walk the rest of the way? It's not far." Ickis wheedled.

"Alright, but stay close to me." Slickis relented.

Ickis nodded. "You're the hero, you'll keep me safe." Ickis asserted.

Slickis feigned surprise. "Hey now! I never said -I- was the hero!" Slickis protested.

Ickis smiled and grabbed onto his father's paw. "I thought it was obvious." remarked Ickis.

They drifted apart so gradually, Slickis didn't even realize it at first. Ickis had always argued that he wanted more responsibility, so Slickis had obliged by leaving his son in charge of the house every time he went on business trips. It started with just a few little excursions- a meeting of the North American Scaring Summit (very technical, no doubt Ickis would have been bored anyway), an awards ceremony to honor the latest Amulet of Enfarg recipients (that was by invitation only, if Slickis HAD been permitted to bring a guest, he -would- have asked Ickis to come), several looming expeditions overseas (Ickis never travelled well. He'd thrown up twice on their trip to Egypt, after that it seemed easier to limit family outings to within the boundaries of the United States.) But if Ickis was upset by these changes, he never actually SAID anything about it. Of course, he never said much to Slickis lately.

If pressed, Slickis might admit that it had hurt the first time he came back from one of his adventures, and Ickis didn't come bounding up to greet him. But, he told himself that this was all perfectly normal behavior for a bonsty of Ickis' age. All the experts claimed that monsters often went through an aloof, rebellious stage in their youth. Slickis didn't remember going through any of that when he was Ickis' age, but maybe things had been different back then, and the idea of a 'son ignoring his father' was a relatively new concept. He'd certainly make an attempt to talk to Ickis today.

"Hullo, Ickis." Slickis greeted his son warmly. Ickis didn't even look up. "Jus' got back from Madagascar, you wouldn't believe how many tourists there were at the Montagne d'Arbre. Not that any of them stuck around after I loomed, of course." bragged Slickis.

"Mm-hmm. I guess even humans have trouble sticking around you, good to know." Ickis commented. He turned the page in his book.

"Okay. I could have used a nicer reception. Something along the lines of 'Great job! You're the best!', that sort of thing." Slickis prompted.

"I'm sure you'll hear -plenty- of compliments at your next public appearance. When is that, tomorrow? Ooh, I don't know if I can STAND the suspense of waiting!" Ickis remarked flippantly.

"I did have a conference scheduled tomorrow." Slickis conceded. He smiled hopefully. "Maybe you'd like to come along? You can bring your book." Slickis offered.

"No thanks. I'd rather stay here and finish it. Should only take another month or so." Ickis claimed.

"Oh, I bet it doesn't take that long! What one is it anyway?" Slickis asked. He craned his neck to get a look at the title, which Ickis hastily covered with his paw.

"It doesn't matter." Ickis replied.

"Sure it does! If you're interested in something, I'd like to hear about it." Slickis persisted.

Ickis sighed. "It's 'The Hobgoblin Of Notre Dame', alright?" he snapped.

"That's got a very intricate plot, you know. Quazimog is the most well-known character, and his love for the putrid girl Muskrelda is largely considered his defining attribute. He falls in love with her because she shows compassion after Quazimog is publicly humiliated durin' a festival. Of course, Quazimog's adoptive father Frumple is ALSO attracted to Muskrelda, despite having pledged to be chaste while preaching of the glory of the Holy Pail. For her part, Muskrelda is only interested in the Phugbis, the Captain of the Monster Army. Consumed by lust and jealousy, Frumple tries to murder Phugbis, then lets Muskrelda be blamed and sentenced to death. Quazimog saves her life by dragging her underneath the Notre Dame Cathedral, claiming sanctuary. Frumple gets them the Monster Parliament to remove Muskrelda's right to safety, so she will be executed anyway, but makes the mistake of letting Cruxpim, a sympathetic citizen know of her impending plight. Cruxpim tries to rally his friends to save Muskrelda, but Quazimog chases them away, believing that they wish to condemn her instead. This gives Frumple the opportunity to 'rescue' Muskrelda, but only if she will promise to love him. When she rejects him, he then promptly turns her over to the Monster Army, and she is hanged. Frumple laughs at her suffering, which enrages Quazimog. In retaliation, he kills Frumple by pushing off a precipice. But Quazimog is still distraught at the death of his beloved so he takes up a lonely vigil by her gallows and starves to death. ...Come to think of it, that's not a very pleasant ending." Slickis mused.

"I wouldn't have KNOWN, I was only on page 20!" Ickis huffed.

"Heh, sorry about that. I thought you were further along." Slickis apologized.

Ickis glared at him. "I read what I needed, the part where Quazimog is abandoned as a bonsty, and his father turns out to be a jerk." Ickis snarled.

"Frumple's not his real father." Slickis re-iterated.

"We should all be so lucky." Ickis muttered.

Slickis chose not to look too deeply into that remark. "If you're finished reading, maybe we can do something else." Slickis suggested.

Ickis smiled in spite of himself. "Really? I did -kinda- want to spend the day with you. An' it would be neat to hear about Madagascar. I've never loomed in my life, but maybe if you gave me another lesson, I could learn it -this- time." Ickis envisioned.

"Sure! That'd be great!" agreed Slickis. "I'll give a special demonstration for you this afternoon."

"Wait, why can't you do it now?" Ickis questioned.

"Because I just remembered, today's the day the International Association of Monster Athletics is having their big track meet. It's a steeplechase, that means the participants have to run around and clear a bunch of hurdles." Slickis explained.

"That sounds familiar." Ickis groused.

"No, I don't think you've watched me do that recently. Whaddya say we go down to the stadium together? You can sit in the bleachers and cheer for your old beast. I'll even buy you some bubble wrap and packing peanuts if you want, they make a great snack!" Slickis bargained.

"I'm not hungry." answered Ickis.

"Then I'll jus' have to buy you a phlegmonade instead." Slickis decided.

Ickis hesitated. He did like phlegmonade, after all, and he was fond of Slickis, even if his Dad had a tendency to be a bit of a glory seeker. "Okay, Dad. I'll go with you." Ickis relented.

"Terrific! We'll have a great time out there, I might even set a record! Wouldn't you like to see that?" Slickis enthused.

"I'd jus' like to see YOU." Ickis maintained.

But Slickis didn't seem to be getting the hint. He spent the entire trip regaling Ickis with stories of his previous athletic accomplishments, as well as a number of predictions for how ground-breaking his latest run was going to be. By the time Ickis took a seat in the bleachers he was almost GLAD to see his father go. So naturally, the spectator next to Ickis had to strike up a conversation with what he took to be a fellow Slickis groupie.

"Did you do your ears up to look like Slickis'? It's a good effort, but maybe you should've put a couple of notches in." the groupie opined.

"I'm NOT gonna disfigure myself jus' so I can look more like Dad. I'm not -that- desperate." Ickis retorted.

The group's eyes widened. "That's your father out there?" he questioned.

"That's him, running around like a rabbit." Ickis critiqued.

"It must be so inspiring, having the Great Slickis for a father." the groupie declared.

"He's not -that- great." Ickis grumbled. He didn't really think that, and Ickis immediately regretted stating it. Slickis' ears pivoted toward the sound and he gave Ickis such a sorrowful expression, Ickis didn't know how he could ever look his father in the eyes again. Especially not after what happened next. Distracted, Slickis took the final jump too low and knocked into the barrier, although he continued to hobble his way to the finish line as if nothing had happened.

"I would have thought Slickis would sprint at the final stretch." the groupie commented.

Ickis snarled and bared his fangs. "Are you a moron? Dad's hurt, he can't run at full-speed." Ickis shouted.

"He can't get hurt. He's an athlete!" the groupie insisted.

"If I didn't hate you, I think I would pity you." Ickis determined. Then he ran down the bleachers, barreling past all the other fans. "Dad! Dad! Da-ad!" Ickis shrieked.

"It was good of you to get another first place finish, Slickis." the referee proclaimed.

"Thank you sir." Slickis replied. He grimacced and massaged his ankle tenderly.

"But it would be -better- if you got a faster time. That was almost 12 seconds slower than your previous attempt!" the referee scolded. "I think you should run it again, really go all out."

Slickis frowned slightly. "Actually, I would rather-" Slickis began.

"He'd rather you leave him alone!" Ickis cried out. Blood started dripping into his eyes as Ickis began his tirade. "You oughtta be ashamed of the way you treat him! Isn't it OBVIOUS that he's hurt? Only a jerk would make a monster race around on a sprained ankle!" Ickis howled. By this point, he had swelled to almost double the referee's height. "Dad's not some emotionless robot, always at your beck an' call! He's a monster with wants an' needs like ev'rybody else an' if you're all so STUPID or SELFISH that you can't -see- that, they you don't even -deserve- to know somebody that brave an' amazing! You're the worst kind of scum in the universe, you're -soap scum-. So if you don't get away from him right NOW, I'll do the only thing you -can- do to soap scum, flush it down the draiiin!" Ickis threatened. It probly would have sounded slightly more menacing if Ickis hadn't shrunk down to his default size partway through the lecture, and was now doubled over, gasping for breath. Slickis held out a paw and gingerly helped steady Ickis.

The referee blinked. "What the heck was that about?" he wondered.

Slickis beamed. "Ickis! Do you know what you've done?" Slickis asked excitedly.

Ickis began to sob. "Yes! I made fun of you, and that wrecked your race, and now you're injured and it's all my fault for being a brat! I'm sorry, Dad! Please, please forgive me! I shouldn't have been such a rude little bonsty, but I didn't think anything bad would happen to you! I take it all back, every lousy thing I ever said, including the stuff you don't know about! WAAAH!" Ickis wailed.

"Ickis, shh-hh. It's alright. I forgive you. I don't even mind that you said bad things about me... even it was on a reg'lar basis." Slickis allowed.

Ickis wiped away a tear. "I think it's a little less frequent than that." Ickis claimed.

"I can live with that." Slickis consented. He ruffled his son's fur. "C'mon, Ickis. Let's go home, and we'll jus' kick back for the rest of the day." decided Slickis.

"YOU can rest, I'll do whatever you want so you can relax! I could make you a putrid butter slopwich, or some grilled fleas if you'd rather, that's s'posed to be crunchy anyway so it really won't matter if I burn the edges!" Ickis declared.

"Why don't we stick with the putrid butter? That's alot easier to clean up." Slickis reasoned.

"Sure, sure. An' you can sit on the couch, an' I'll bring you magazines an' books to read, an' you can spoil the endings all you want, it won't bother me!" Ickis asserted. Slickis nodded as he listened to his son chatter away. He wondered how much longer it would take before Ickis realized he'd just pulled off his first loom.

"I don't understand." Ickis admitted.

"Well, maybe I exaggerated a little when I told you that story. The point is, scaring doesn't always come easily and you shouldn't be afraid of failure." Slickis conceded.

"I know that! I've failed enough exams to figure it out MYSELF. What I don't get is why you showed that -really- lame fountain scare when you coulda shown something terrific. You saved me from a TANK. Didn't you think the Gromble would rather see that?!" Ickis yelled.

Slickis shrugged. "It wasn't a very big tank." Slickis maintained.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Next time I endanger myself, I'll be -sure- to pick something menacing enough to meet YOUR approval. There's a Monster Hunter running around now, is that a big enough risk for you?!" Ickis huffed.

"That's TOO big a risk, Ickis. You don't have to go looking for trouble to impress me." Slickis insisted.

"What else am I s'posed to do? It's the only way you'll even -notice- me lately." Ickis argued.

"Ickis, that's just not true." Slickis disagreed.

"Really? Lessee, have you been to any of my Sewerball games yet?" Ickis questioned.

"You're on the Sewerball team? That's terrific, why didn't you tell me?" Slickis enthused.

Ickis glared at his father. "I mentioned it 3 times last year! I even sent a copy of our schedule to the house! How could you miss that?!" Ickis hollered.

"I might have been out of town. There was that trip to the Bermuda Triangle, and then I went horror-gliding over the Australian coast, have you ever done that? There's nothing quite like the thrill of scaring humans at high altitude." Slickis professed.

"Yeah, Zimbo's always bragging about that. He thinks he's the only monster who can do scares in the sky." Ickis replied.

"That's ridiculous. You can't claim an entire territory. The manual specifically states that a monster can scare wherever and however he chooses." Slickis responded.

"I'll keep that in mind." Ickis decided.

"Good, innovation is the key to success." Slickis concurred.

"You never saw me loop the tail end of a kite around my waist, then jump off the Brooklyn Bridge." Ickis volunteered.

Slickis winced. "Wouldn't the added weight jus' make it harder to swim?" Slickis theorized.

"Yesss." Ickis hissed. "That's why I won't ask Zimbo to give me scaring suggestions ever again."

"Well, at least you're getting a good education!" Slickis remarked brightly.

"I'm learning not to trust anyone." Ickis snapped. Tears were starting to form in his eyes and so he looked away from his father. "An' I'll be sure to put that lesson to good use after you leave AGAIN an' we don't talk for another year or more." Ickis added, much more quietly.

Slickis wanted to reach out to his boy, but he had a feeling Ickis would only pull away again. "It doesn't have to be that long, Ickis. We could talk more often if you'd like. I, I could come to your school again." Slickis offered.

"No way! I'm unpopular enough as it is, I don't NEED you to remind ev'ryone how pathetic I am in comparison to the Great Slickis." protested Ickis.

Slickis frowned. "I thought you said you had lots of friends." Slickis recalled.

"I -lied-." Ickis confessed. He sniffled miserably. "Krumm and Oblina hang out with me cause they're my roommates and they don't have any other choice." Ickis mumbled.

"I'm sure it goes deeper than that. When I watched you compete in the Great Wave, everyone seemed very interested in seeing how well you finished." Slickis asserted.

"They were betting that I'd LOSE. That's why they cheered when I turned back, cause it meant they were gonna get a big toenail payout." Ickis revealed.

"...Oh. I'm sure Krumm 'preciated having someone go back and help him at any rate." Slickis opined.

"He woulda done the same for me." Ickis claimed.

"Then he's a very good friend. You should be glad that you've got someone to pal around with at the Academy, it'll make things alot easier." predicted Slickis.

"Not always." Ickis replied. He kicked the ground dejectedly. "Krumm is... sorta like you. He's nice, an' he's ugly, an' monsters LIKE being around him. Even Oblina thinks... she thinks alot more of Krumm than she does of me." whispered Ickis.

"Why would that matter unless... you're squishing on her?" Slickis realized.

Ickis blushed furiously. "I didn't SAY that! Why would you jus' randomly announce something like that?! What if- what if someone was -listening-?" Ickis fretted.

"Then they would have heard a father and his son talk about girls." Slickis declared.

Ickis tugged on his ears. "You can't talk if I can't hear! La la la, subject is closed, la la la, don't mention it!" Ickis shrieked.

Several monsters poked their heads out of various dorm rooms and stared at the 2 loomers. "Ickis, I think screeching is only attracting MORE attention." Slickis commented.

Ickis' jaw dropped. "Agghh! It's worse than I thought!" he moaned as he ran down the hallway. Slickis sighed and took off after his son. About halfway through the chase it occurred to Slickis that Ickis would do very well on a track team.

It wasn't often that student monsters got a chance to do something less stressful than scaring or studying their Manuals, so Ickis, Oblina, and Krumm tended to make the most of their free time.

"You were VERY impressive out there, Krummy! I can't believe you hooked a hood ornament!" Oblina exclaimed as the monsters returned to their dorm, following a moderately successful fishing trip.

"I love car parts. They could never be ruined for me!" Krumm announced.

"That's splendid, Krumm. But I am sorry -you- didn't get anything today, Icky." professed Oblina.

Ickis shrugged. "It's alright. Fishing is s'posed to be relaxing, who cares if you catch anything?" Ickis asserted.

"A-hem." the Gromble cleared his throat.

"You okay, sir? Feel like taking the day off tomorrow, canceling that stupid chapter test?" Ickis asked hopefully.

"Wouldn't THAT just make your day?" the Gromble sneered.

"Jus' about! The only way you could improve on that would be if the cafeteria started serving Caterpillar Crunch lice cream, an' I found a treasure map to King Scallimun's Mines, an' I used the profits to build this big suit of armor, so I could fight injustice! Then when I'm big an' famous..." Ickis babbled.

"Master Ickis! Nobody cares about indulging your IDIOTIC fantasies!" the Gromble snarled.

"It won't be a fantasy -after- it comes true." Ickis pointed out. "So like I was sayin', I'm gonna spend the next century or so getting a reputation as a big, important monster! They'll be parades, an' parties, maybe a lifetime achievement award..." he envisioned.

The Gromble flinched. "Please stop talking, Master Ickis." the Gromble begged.

"Yes, your Grombleness." Ickis replied.

"You look troubled, sir. Is something wrong? Can we help?" Oblina inquired.

"There's nothing you can do, Oblina. You and Krumm are to go back to your dorm. This matter concerns Master Ickis." the Gromble revealed.

Ickis' ears drooped. "I'm flunking out, aren't I?" he observed sadly.

The Gromble sighed. "If only it were that simple... follow me, Master Ickis. I've arranged a conference in the doctor's office." the Gromble detailed.

"That's a strange place for an announcement about me not meeting this Academy's expectations." Ickis commented as he trotted alongside the Gromble.

"As if I would go to this much trouble over something so BLATANTLY obvious!" the Gromble roared.

"I didn't think it was -blatant-. I thought it was merely implied." Ickis pouted.

The Gromble scowled and opened the door. "There's nothing merely about it, Master Ickis! Now sit down next to your father and behave." instructed the Gromble crossly.

Ickis' eyes lit up and he bounded over towards Slickis. "DAD! Nobody told me you'd be here! Is the Gromble making you show off again?" Ickis chattered.

"Hullo, son. I see the Gromble hasn't gotten around to explaining anything to you yet." Slickis noted. He gave the Gromble a very pointed look.

"I couldn't get a word in edgewise! YOU try talking to that motor-mouth sometime, I doubt you'd fare much better!" the Gromble countered.

Slickis fidgeted nervously. "Er, this is really the -doctor's- field of expertise, not mine." Slickis claimed.

"Of course. Let the doctor be the bearer of bad news, if he doesn't -have- to do that often enough, he might get out of practice!" Dr. Kott quipped.

Ickis started to back away. "I think this is a bad time. Why don't I come back later?" Ickis offered.

"There might not BE a later." the doctor muttered.

Ickis gulped. "Wh-whaddaya mean?" Ickis whispered.

"You're combustible." Dr. Kott stated.

"No, I did that already. That was last week." Ickis insisted.

"That was Stage 1, the initial onset of the disease." Dr. Kott explained.

"You said I was fine!" Ickis argued.

"Technically, you are. Combustibility is an auto-immune disorder, so the condition often appears stabilized. It would take another illness to trigger it again." Dr. Kott clarified.

Ickis trembled. "As in, trigger an explosion?" he fretted.

"Possibly." Dr. Kott admitted.

"But that's not always what happens. Tell him that!" Slickis interjected.

"Nobody tells ME anything! You shoulda heard the Gromble's speech about combustibility. He jus' glossed over all the important details, wouldn't even say what happened to HIS famous ancestor!" Ickis hollered.

"Klawdiak died, Master Ickis. It wasn't as painful as you think, and his legacy continues to inspire future generations." the Gromble insisted.

Ickis immediately broke down and cried. "I don't wanna inspire anybody! I wanna be Ickis, the non-explosive monster!" Ickis sobbed.

"There have been cases where the combustible monster doesn't explode." Dr. Kott allowed.

"So there's no need to cry, Ickis. You'll get through this, I know you will." Slickis remained steadfast.

"Of course, they ALL contracted the disease much later in life. Mortality rates among bonstys is -much- higher." Dr. Kott continued.

"He's NOT a bonsty!" the Gromble snapped.

"That's true!" Ickis agreed.

"Master Ickis will live however long he pleases, AND he will do whatever he pleases with that life." the Gromble predicted.

"That's -also- true." Ickis proclaimed.

"Tomorrow morning he will march into class, take his test as usual, and receive the -lowest- grade as usual." the Gromble concluded.

"That's... not true at all!" Ickis protested.

"Prove me wrong, Master Ickis." the Gromble challenged.

"I will!" Ickis asserted. He paused. "Wait! Which part am I proving false, the control my own destiny part or the world's worst student part?" Ickis questioned.

"Either way, he's got his work cut out for him." Dr. Kott remarked.

"I still think he can do it." Slickis maintained.

Slickis always -tried- to encourage his son's hobbies, but it was a little difficult to be supportive when one had a pink, lacy bra stuffed over their ears.

"Why am I wearing this?" Slickis asked again.

"Cause it's your costume. All the best characters in Ultra Monster dress up." Ickis answered. He tugged dramatically on his 'cape', which was actually a towel.

"Huh. Guess that explains why that one girl won't date the hero." Slickis mused.

Ickis frowned. "Groslane will come around! Jus' give her time. She loves Ultra Monster, it's his nerdy default persona that throws her off." Ickis retorted.

"Ah. Then why doesn't Ultra Monster concentrate on fixing that? It seems like they got off on the wrong foot, so it wouldn't be unreasonable if he took steps to correct his flaws, prevent that sort of misunderstanding from happening again." Slickis reasoned.

Ickis huffed. "Ultra Monster's a superhero, he -can't- change or the fans would protest! Also, he's GOT to make the same stupid mistakes, or they wouldn't -be- any more stories." Ickis explained.

"What a great role model." Slickis muttered dryly.

"Yeah, I know! He's my favorite." Ickis enthused. He pointed to a rickety wooden chair. "Okay, Dad. You go sit there like a good kidnap victim, an' I will rescue you." Ickis promised.

"I don't think there can ever be a good kidnapping. That's jus' glorifying criminal behavior." Slickis argued.

"It'll be a better kidnapping than when the Gromble's crazy rival Skritch came and tied ropes around us, then shoved us in a bathtub." Ickis asserted.

"All he did was tie a rope around you? Why didn't you loom and break free?" Slickis wondered.

Ickis paused. "I have no idea." Ickis admitted. After all this time, you'd think that would have been the obvious solution!

"Do they use that kind of lazy writing in comic books? Shove the hero in a situation where he could EASILY use his super strength to break his bonds, but somehow he overlooks that option? Maybe they use a slow-moving trap, one that fills up with water, and somehow the vague threat of danger is enough to make the hero forget he can swim? Perhaps they're a bit more ambitious with the plot, and they tell the hero he can only save -one- friend, even though he's fast enough that he could rescue both? Whatever method they come up with, I'm sure it's very contrived." Slickis opined.

"I shoulda jus' made you the villain." Ickis grumbled as he gave up and walked away.

"Agghh! He touched the boat, Nemo touched the boat, how could he DO that?!" Slickis moaned.

"He thought it would be impressive." Ickis answered.

"But his father TOLD him not to do it!" Slickis continued.

"Yeah, Marlin's always bossing Nemo around." Ickis observed.

Plastoog leaned back wearily. "Maybe sneaking you loomers into a drive-in 'family film' was a mistake." he mused. Due to his facial deformity, Plastoog had spent centuries living among humans and was familiar with most of their technology. Ickis seemed to be enthralled by human culture, but Slickis, like most monsters of his generation, was wary that too much time spent in human environments could negatively impact a bonsty's well-being. Evidently, this movie seemed only to re-enforce Slickis' beliefs.

"Marlin's only trying to -protect- his boy. He's older, and as the father Marlin knows what he's doing!" Slickis persisted.

"What he was doing was controlling Nemo's entire LIFE." Ickis corrected.

"He jus' wants Nemo to -have- a life. Didn't you see what happened to his mother?" Slickis ranted.

Ickis sniffled. "I- I had my eyes closed for most'a that part." Ickis admitted. He looked rather embarassed.

"That's alright, son." Slickis murmured reassuringly. "It was a very scary moment, but it explains -why- Marlin would be so concerned for his son's safety." he maintained.

"It's okay for the Dad to worry -some-, but it's not okay for him to keep treating Nemo like this fragile toy that would break if you let him out to play." Ickis opined.

"Nemo has a medical condition, that makes him vulnerable." Slickis countered.

"It doesn't make him defenseless!" Ickis argued.

"Marlin doesn't think-" Slickis began.

"No, he doesn't. That's why Nemo has to PROVE himself to be strong, cause Marlin would -never- recognize that otherwise." declared Ickis.

Slickis sighed. "I'm sure Marlin already knows how resilient Nemo is. It's just hard to admit when your son doesn't NEED you anymore." Slickis realized.

Ickis shook his head. "You lost me. How could Nemo not need his Dad? Marlin is the one who cares for him, an' guides him, an' gets him ready for school. Marlin jus' needs to back off a little, let Nemo have adventures with his -friends-, so he can grow into a more well-rounded character. But Nemo can't do ev'rything for himself yet, so it would be really, really bad for Marlin to let go completely." Ickis detailed.

"Oh. So Marlin should still be somewhat protective of his boy, but keep in mind that Nemo is becoming more independent as time passes, and Marlin needs to respect that." Slickis summarized.

Ickis nodded. "Yeah. That's 'zactly what Marlin needs to do." Ickis confirmed.

"Hmm. What does Nemo need to do, then?" Slickis questioned.

"That one's even MORE obvious. Nemo needs to understand that his Dad isn't a bad guy, even when he's being strict. Marlin -loves- Nemo unconditionally. Nemo's gotta be more 'preciative of that." Ickis asserted.

Slickis reached over and squeezed his son's paw. "Maybe they'll both learn a little something, then." predicted Slickis.

"I hope so! They're too good to let their relationship deteriorate any further." Ickis commented. He let Slickis hold his paw for the remainder of the movie, especially the really horrifying moments during Marlin's quest to save Nemo when the fiendishly cute jellyfish had Marlin and his new friend Dory mesmerized. But Ickis only squeezed back towards the very end, when Marlin thought Nemo was unsave-able (was that a word?) They watched and waited anxiously until father and son were reunited.

"Dad?" Ickis whispered as the credits rolled.

"What is it, son?" Slickis asked.

"I don't hate being your bonsty." Ickis confided.

Plastoog smiled. This trip was easily one of his best ideas, ever.

Slickis' ears pricked up as soon as he heard the door knock. He could always tell the difference between Ickis' impatient tapping and the pounding of one of the usual groupies out seeking an autograph. Slickis grinned as he swung the door wide open. "Hullo, son. I didn't think I'd see you before graduation. C'mon inside, I'll fix you something warm to drink." Slickis offered.

Ickis glanced around nervously. "I can't really stay long. I jus' wanted... no, I needed to talk with you." Ickis answered.

"Sure!" Slickis agreed. He paused, as if considering all the reasons Ickis might 'need' to talk. "You're not in trouble with the Gromble again, are you?" Slickis questioned.

"Course not! I'm not causing any more problems at the Academy." Ickis claimed.

"But are you causing any less?" Slickis wondered.

Ickis frowned. "Why do you hafta be so smart?" Ickis huffed.

"I couldn't keep up with you otherwise." Slickis proclaimed. He gestured to the living room couch. "Have a seat, Ickis. We'll talk all you want." promised Slickis.

"Okay Dad." Ickis replied. He still seemed a bit jittery even as he sat down.

"Want some kerosene tea, Ickis? Maybe some hot crude oil instead? It might calm you down." Slickis suggested.

Ickis shook his head. "I'd rather g-get it over with." Ickis stammered.

"Fair enough. What's on your mind, Ickis?" inquired Slickis.

"Th-this is gonna sound kinda sudden but I... I like Oblina." Ickis began.

"Give me a little credit, son. I pieced that together long ago." Slickis reminded him.

"I don't jus' mean like as in havin' a squish. I mean like as in gettin' married." Ickis clarified.

"You're sure about that? Marriage is a -very- big step." Slickis cautioned.

"I'm sure." Ickis maintained.

"Alright, then. I support your decision 100 percent. Best of luck to you!" Slickis enthused.

Ickis breathed a sigh a relief. "I was hoping you'd say that." Ickis admitted.

"Of course! You know I've always wanted nothing more than for you to succeed at whatever brings you happiness." Slickis professed.

"An' you'd do anything to help with that, right?" Ickis questioned. He had a plaintive look in his eyes that made Slickis feel somewhat wary.

"I draw the line at anything criminal, Ickis. So no robbing a Toenail Bank to get your girl an engagement present, or any stunt like that." Slickis asserted.

"I don't have to steal a present so long as you -give- it away." Ickis declared. He gazed at his father imploringly. "Please, Dad? Can't I give Oblina the fastener?" Ickis begged.

Slickis' eyes widened. "Squelia's fastener? Ickis, that's asking an AWFUL lot." Slickis responded.

"I know." Ickis conceded. He ran his claws through his fur absently, and sighed wistfully.

Slickis hesitated. "I'd better get alot in return." Slickis decided.

"Y-you mean that?" Ickis whispered.

"Absolutely! You're almost completely grown up now, and you're getting ready to start the next phase of your life alongside Oblina. The least I can do is make sure you get that proposal off right. How else am I going to get any grand-bonstys?" Slickis asserted. He nudged Ickis playfully. "Be sure to name the first boy after me." Slickis instructed.

"Dad, no!" Ickis whined.

~~~The End.

Author's Note: Happy Fathers' Day! It's one of my favorite holidays so I really hope I did it justice. We don't get to see too much of Slickis' parenting skills on the show, since Ickis spends most of his time at the Monster Academy, but any father that would stare down an armored vehicle for the sake of his son must have major Papa Wolf tendencies. (Even if he can't come up with a decent bonsty name.) Reviews are always encouraged.


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